Echoes of Mine
by rochesters
Summary: An AU to Between Two Points: Leonard McCoy succumbs to his injuries on Goa III, leaving Jim and Christine to pick up the pieces.


**Echoes of Mine**  
By Rochester

**Disclaimer:** Not mine.

_Everyone dies, Jim,_ he remembers Bones telling him before they embarked on their five-year mission.

They were out for brunch in the Mission; the good doctor eating a fried egg sandwich and Jim destroying three different types of pop-overs. He didn't recall how the topic was brought up, but only that Bones had – in his own strange way – stated a universal truth that Jim felt would never, ever apply to his friend.

There was something else that the doctor said, but Jim was too consumed with the food on his plate to be paying attention.

He pictured Leonard McCoy outliving them all with his grumpy demeanor (which in truth wasn't _that_ grumpy) and die surrounded by his children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren in a warm bed with a tumbler of scotch on hand.

Instead, he dies from a blood clot that lodges itself in the doctor's heart during the middle of the night as Jim and Christine sleep on either side.

It's Christine's screams that wake him, thrusting Jim out of a deep sleep caused by exhaustion. As his sense kick in, he turns to see Christine. Her eyes are wide and filled with tears, that fall down her cheeks. In her arms lies Bones, his head resting against her heaving chest.

The doctor is grey and bloodless. He's pale, so pale – the golden tone of his skin gone and resembling a ghost.

Christine doesn't need to say anything because Jim already knows.

He doesn't cry.

He physically can't – it's like he's gone numb from the shock of it all.

Instead, he listens to Christine sobbing and watches her tears as they fall down her cheeks and land on Bones' forehead.

It seems like hours and perhaps it has been, but just as the sun is rising above the horizon, Jim hears voices traveling through the brush.

As he turns, Sulu appears as he pushes a giant leaf out of his path. He has a relieved smile on his face when he spots Jim and looks like he's about to crack a joke when his expression drops.

"Did you find…" Spock is calling as he walks up behind Sulu, his voice trailing off as the half-Vulcan sees the scene unfolding in front of them.

If it's even possible, Jim swears that Spock turns white as his dark eyes widen in shock. It's all so very un-Vulcan that Jim has to say something.

"You're too late," he tells Spock, his voice wavering, "he's already dead."

* * *

He goes through the motions during the first week following Bones' death. Jim makes the gut-wrenching call to his friend's parents back in Georgia and listens to their sobs that travel through technology and space.

He has no idea how he manages to make it through the call without breaking down, but he does.

Jim is a pro at swallowing his emotions and numbing the pain without much outside assistance (booze). If this was an Olympic sport (if they still had the Olympics), he would be a gold medalist several times over.

He gets up in the morning and gets ready for his shift. Sometimes Jim bumps into Spock in their shared head while he's brushing his teeth. They don't speak, though Jim can feel the half-Vulcan's dark eyes burning a hole into his back as he watches the young captain.

Sometimes he eats on his way to the bridge, other times he doesn't. His stomach is temperamental when he's upset (devastated) and losing his lunch in the middle of the bridge is a blow to Jim's ego that he's not prepared to handle.

(At least not yet because _even_ James T. Kirk can make fun of himself.)

His shifts come and go. Whenever the doors to the bridge open, he half expects Bones to come tearing in with a tirade on his tongue.

It's never Bones who walks through those doors.

Not now, not ever again.

When his shift ends, Jim crawls under the comforter on his bed and hides until his eyes close and he sleeps.

Then he wakes up and the day repeats himself.

Jim figures if he goes about his normal (not normal) routine that the pain from losing his best friend will hurt less.

He's good at avoidance under normal circumstances, but this is far from normal.

It's awful.

It's awful and it's overwhelming and the only person he would go to is dead.

So Jim bottles up his emotions and is convinced that he won't break.

Even he knows that he's lying to himself.

* * *

It's by accident he finds out that Bones and Christine were _together_.

In a _relationship_.

A _real_ one.

Jim shouldn't be so shocked because even Bones could manage to be charming when he wanted to be. The former doctor was a good looking, intelligent (albeit surly) guy and he could see why Christine would be attracted to him.

It's just that…

…he doesn't know what to think.

He's on the bridge, sitting listless in the chair when he accidentally overhears Carol and Uhura whispering at the latter's station.

"Did you talk to Christine?"

"This morning before her shift," Carol says, her voice low.

"She went back _already_?" Uhura replies, sounding surprised. "I thought Spock gave her a week."

He hears Carol sigh. "Chris said she was going stir crazy."

"I can't…" Uhura starts to say, her voice cracking. "I can't even imagine what she's going through right now. Did she tell you what he told her before…"

_Before what?_ Jim thinks to himself as he turns the chair ever so slightly, straining to hear more.

"She's been beating herself up over it since she got back." Carol pauses. "Chris thinks that he didn't know."

A gasp escapes Uhura's mouth. "Of course he _knew_!"

"That's what _I_ told her," Carol says. "Leonard knew that she loved him. There's no question!"

Before Jim can stop himself, he shouts, "WHAT?"

It startles everyone on the bridge, including himself, and suddenly fifteen pairs of eyes are glued to him as he almost falls out of the chair.

He stares perplexedly at Carol and Uhura, his mouth open in shock and his pulse roaring in his ears. It's that very moment that Spock comes on the bridge, cool and collected, and takes in the unnatural silence.

"Captain," he starts to say.

Jim is up like a shot, muttering that his first officer has the conn as he rushes out and shuts himself inside of his ready room.

That's where Uhura finds himself as he sits on the couch with his face in his hands.

"Why didn't he tell me?" he half asks, half pleads without looking up. "Why didn't he tell me about her?"

He feels Uhura sitting next to him, careful not to get too close. The heat of her body radiates against his uniform and he can smell the scent of her perfume. "He didn't tell a lot of people," she tells him. "I only found out by accident."

"I'm his best friend," Jim moans into his hands.

"I know," Uhura assures. "He and Christine – it started out as something casual and they didn't want to tell anyone until they knew what it was."

Bones could be a private son of a bitch and there were times that even Jim, who could (for the most part) read the doctor like a book, had no idea what was going through his head.

"When did they…" Jim whispers, shaking his head.

Uhura touches his arm, gently squeezing his elbow. "That night we all went to the club on Andromeda," she answers, ignoring Jim's snort. "And things just happened."

"Were they happy?" Jim asks, turning his head to look at his communications officer. "Did she…"

Uhura nods, her eyes bright. "They were really happy," she promises as she cards her fingers through Jim's ruffled hair. "Maybe you should talk to Christine."

God, Christine.

In his mind-numbing grief, he had _almost_ forgotten about her. "Is she okay?"

"She will be," Uhura assures him.

Jim nods, relieved.

"Go talk to her," Uhura urges him.

"I don't think she wants to see me," he admits.

Uhura shrugs. "You would be surprised," she says.

The thing is, Uhura is right except Jim hasn't been in the mood for surprises.

* * *

Jim eventually goes to talk to Christine.

It takes a few more days, but he does.

He reasons it's because he can't sleep and he needs someone who understands – someone who truly gets – how consuming his loneliness is.

It's in the middle of Gamma shift when he rings her door chime and wonders if she can't sleep either while he stands in the hallway wearing a t-shirt and sweats. His heart is hammering against his chest and his hands can't stop trembling.

When she answers the door (wearing Bones' med school sweatshirt of all the fucking things), Jim starts to cry for the first time since Bones died.

As much as Jim thinks Christine hates him (he can't blame her because he was a pain in the ass for the last month or so), she _does_ surprise him by pulling him into her quarters and holding him against her body as he sobs into the fabric of the sweatshirt.

It still smells like Bones - all honeyed bourbon, pine trees, and fresh laundry – and her, something new, something sweet, something with promise.

He doesn't know what he tells her or if she even understands, but through the apex of his sadness, Jim hears Christine whisper, "I know."

Later – possibly towards the beginning of Alpha shift (and by some small mercy, they both have the day off) – Jim finds himself with his head in Christine's lap as her delicate hands rub comforting circles on his shoulders and scalp.

The gesture reminds of him of all the times he drank too much and broke down in Bones' bathroom and rambled about whatever ailed him while Bones – god bless him – listened and comforted him in silence.

"I was wondering when you'd come, hot shot," Christine murmurs as she brushes his hair off his forehead.

Jim closes his eyes, which burn, and lets out a shaky sigh. "I didn't think you wanted to see me," he admits.

"At first I didn't because I didn't want to see how much you were hurting," Christine confesses. "I know what he meant to you."

"I know what you meant to him," Jim says as he adjusts his head against the material of her flannel pajama bottoms. "I mean…I don't _know_…only what Uhura told me."

Christine clears her throat. "I did love him," she states to Jim, her voice cracking. "He told me right before the shuttle crashed that he loved me…and I thought that maybe if I whispered it in his ear after we settled in the cave, that he would wake up and everything would be okay…"

She starts to cry, her body trembling against his own. He can hear her breath coming in short rasps as she removes the hand in his head. Jim swallows as his own tears resurface and spill down his cheeks.

Eventually Jim sits up and pulls Christine to him, holding her against his chest and stroking her hair that falls down her face in waves.

A month ago, he would have taken advantage of the situation of being in such close proximity to the nurse. He probably would have gloated about it to Bones and walked around the ship with a Cheshire grin.

But the stupid things that made him smile are trivial and hollow.

"You know we did everything we could, right?" Christine asks him much, much later in dark confines of her bedroom. She is on one side of the bed, just a simple arm's length away, while Jim is on the other.

He turns his cheek, pressing it against a pillow that smells like her. "Maybe," he whispers. "I don't really know to be honest."

"Maybe one day?"

"Maybe."

More silence follows, unspoken words linger in the air until he hears Christine's voice once more.

"Jim?"

"Yeah?"

The bed moves as Christine adjusts her position in the dark. "I would like us to be friends," she tells him, her words filling his stomach with warmth.

She can't see him in the darkness, but her words – so innocent and so very Christine Chapel – makes him smile for the first time in eons. "Me too."

* * *

So they become friends.

It's strange at first because despite what others thought of his pursuit of Christine Chapel, Jim really was attracted to her and not her body parts (and what they could or would do to him under the right circumstances).

He remembers meeting her for the first time while they were at the Academy.

She had been with Uhura and Gaila and had just ordered a Salty Dog, seemingly trying to hide behind her friends. Uhura was ignoring him and Gaila was eye fucking him as she twirled her flaming red hair around her finger.

And then there was Christine; impossibly beautiful, quick witted, and naturally lighting up an otherwise dull bar in North Beach on the corner of Columbus and Union.

Jim is usually not one for details (except that she was hot, but her friend was hotter).

He finds it particularly unnerving that he remembers _exactly_ what Christine was wearing (an oversized sweater that somehow clung to every curve on her body with a pair of jeans that were tucked into boots) and how her long hair fell over her shoulders in loose curls.

And how as she sat next to him and he whispered into her ear that he thought she had the most beautiful smile he had ever seen.

And how she still makes his heart skip a beat as she quirks her brow and wrinkles her nose at him from across the table in the mess hall.

Both Carol and Uhura give him stern warnings about taking advantage of their friend.

(If he does, he'll lose his dick and they _will_ make it look like an accident.)

He swears he has the best intentions. And he does.

Jim gets why they do this and he can't fault them for wanting to protect Christine from more hurt. It takes two solid months for Carol and Uhura to warm up to the blossoming friendship, but eventually they do. They probably see that Jim's presence puts Christine at ease and makes the loss of Bones hurt less.

In turn, Christine makes him feel less like the universe is collapsing on him. She is an axis point in the middle of the clusterfuck that is his life, steady and unmoving.

Normally this would freak Jim out.

(Maybe it still freaks him out, but he's too busy being a captain to dwell on it for long.)

Christine has an uncanny knack of pulling Jim out of his moods (aka when he's being a complete and utter dick).

She does it with ease, like it's a sixth sense and something she's done all her life.

(After all, she _is_ a nurse first.)

Today Jim is in one of those moods and they are in a private sparring room. He wonders why they are even there because the mat isn't out and Christine is fiddling with the sound system.

"I thought we were sparring," he grumbles as he sits cross legged, his back against the wall.

Christine shrugs. "You thought wrong," she replies over her shoulder.

She's right and he knows it. She is dressed in clothing not quite appropriate for sparring and she's bare foot. Her hair is twirled into a bun, every single strand in place by some miracle (or hair product).

"So what are we doing here?" Jim asks as he hears the Beastie Boys blaring out of the speakers. His lips twitch into a smile. "We could have listened to this in my quarters, you know."

Christine turns around and shakes her head. "That's not why we're here," she tells him as she goes to her duffle bag and rummages around.

Jim watches with intent and quirks a brow when she pulls out a pair of light pink shoes with laces. He tilts his head, trying to get a better view. "What are those?"

"Remember Poker Night at Sulu's?" Christine comments as she sits down across from him, her legs outstretched.

How could he forget? She card sharked his Helmsman into the ground and made off with at least two hundred credits in her pockets.

Christine catches him nodding and smiles. "Well…I didn't ride horses at my fancy private school," she tells him as she hits the shoes against the wooden floor before sliding them on and lacing them up with delft fingers.

"They taught you bondage?" Jim offers as he watches in amusement.

Christine raises a brow. "No, hot shot," she retorts as she pushes herself to her feet – her toes really – and spins in a elegant spiral.

"You're a fucking _ballerina_?" Jim croaks as he watches Christine dance around the room, her movements controlled and fluid. "Jesus…"

He watches her leap impossibly high, her legs outstretched, and her land, hardly making a sound on the wooden floor. She glides on her toes, pirouetting across the room as rap music fills the air.

The absurdity of the entire thing finally breaks through Jim's shock and he starts laughing until his eyes tear up and he's on his side.

Christine is standing in front of him, arms crossed and with a smile. "Feel better now?" she asks as she squats down.

The strange thing is that he does.

She commands the music to change, and he hears a piano playing a familiar tune as Christine walks to the center of the room.

She's dancing to Debussy and Jim is mesmerized by her graceful movements that start from her feet and travel to the tips of her fingers. Everything about Christine dancing is in sync and so breathtakingly beautiful that Jim wishes in his heart of hearts that Bones was there with him.

But it's just him and Christine and somehow it works.

"Did he ever see you dance?" Jim asks later as they sit on the edge of the tub in his quarters as Christine soaks her feet in cool water.

Christine is leaning over the edge and rubbing her foot, working the kinks out under water. She doesn't answer immediately, not that Jim expects her to. "I never got around to showing him," she admits as she flexes her feet against the bottom of the tub.

Jim watches as Christine shakes the water from her hand and relaxes her body. A companionable silence fills the head, punctured by the sound of water dripping from the facet.

As Christine uncoils her hair from the bun and lets it fall over her shoulders, Jim gets why Bones fell in love with her. He wishes that he could tell his friend and watch him grin lazily in agreement.

"Chris," he says, making her name sound like a question.

She turns her to him, her hair partially obscuring her features. "Hrm?"

"He would have loved it," Jim tells her. "You dancing. Bones would have loved it."

Jim half expects her to burst into tears, but she surprises him by tilting her head and raising a questioning brow.

"You think?" she asks.

He nods in confirmation. "It was beautiful…how could he not?"

"I never pegged you for the sentimental type, hot shot," Christine comments. "But thank you."

They exchange smiles and sit in silence until Spock pokes his head in, informing Jim that he needs to use the facilities.

* * *

It's New Year's Eve and four months since Bones' passing.

They are standing in a corner, clutching their drinks (a Whiskey Sour for her and a bourbon for him) and watching everyone else enjoy themselves.

Not that Jim and Christine aren't enjoying themselves. They just have a more cynical approach about it.

He's enjoying Christine's borderline inappropriate observations about other people's drunken shenanigans because a catty Chapel is a funny Chapel.

Jim watches the nurse as she tilts her head and watches one of the nurses make out with Sulu. He brings his glass to his lips as she raises her brow and says in the most casual manner, "Oh, she's going to regret that in the morning" as the nurse shoves her tongue down Sulu's throat.

Jim snorts back his laughter, muffled back the glass, and struggles to swallow the alcohol in his throat. They exchange a knowing smile as someone (who suspiciously sounds like Chekov) shouts that the countdown to the new year has begun (all ten seconds of it).

The room is filled with a chorus of voices as they count, the numbers getting lower and lower.

To Jim and Christine it's just another year, another holiday.

Another day without Bones, whose absence is so palpable that it stings in the worst way.

"Three...two...one!"

Christine takes a sip of her drink and hisses, "Happy fucking New Year."

Jim chokes on his bourbon as he laughs, the sound drowned out by the jam packed mess hall screaming Happy New Year at the top of their lungs, whistles being blown, and the explosions of confetti poppers.

He wipes his eyes and turns to Christine, her eyes wide as she gawks at him. "Happy fucking New Year, Chapel," he tells her as he leans over, pressing his lips against her cheek.

He inhales her perfume, the warmth of her soft skin, and the scent of her shampoo, momentarily getting lost in his own head.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," he hears her mutter as her lips brush against his jaw. "Can we leave now?"

Jim nods, to Christine's great relief as she grabs him by the hand and hauls him out of the mess. Somehow she has managed to swipe an unopened bottle of champagne, which he realizes that she's in possession of when they get onto the turbolift.

"Where did you get that?" he asks, his brows quirked in curiosity.

Christine shrugs. "A lady never tells," she says cryptically as he commands the lift to deposit them on his floor. "The more important question is_ Star Wars_ or _James Bond_."

"Do you even need to ask?" Jim questions as he leans against the wall with a smile.

It's going to be _Star Wars_ without contest.

"I swear to god, Kirk, if you make me watch Episodes One to Three, I'm taking this bottle to my quarters and this friendship is effectively over," Christine warns as she shakes a finger at him.

Jim is genuinely offended by the comment and demonstrates as he grabs the bottle from Christine's grasp, much to her very vocal protesting. "I will have you know," he tells her very matter-of-factly, "I am a _purist_, Nurse Chapel! As far as I'm concerned, Star Wars begins with _A New Hope_ and ends with _Return of the Jedi_."

And that pretty much settles that.

* * *

It's Remembrance Day a few days later. It's also Jim's birthday and he usually spends it with Bones.

It's not that he spends it with Bones, but rather spends it getting blackout drunk whilst under the doctor's careful observation. It cumulates in one of the follow scenarios:

A) They end up at Bob's Donuts on Polk Street where Jim stuffs his face with an apple fritter (and subsequently pukes it up in the alley).

B) Jim gets into a bar fight (and subsequently pukes on his opponent or the bouncer...or the cop...or in an alley

Or C) they (Jim) stumble back to one of their apartments where Jim half drowns himself in the toilet and alternates between puking, sobbing, and passing out until morning.

Either way it involves a lot of drinking and vomiting, followed by a lecture from Bones about the dangers of alcohol poisoning.

This time Jim does something completely different: he spends the morning throwing up in the head (sober) and when he's done, crawls back to his bed to suffocate himself under the blankets.

Sleep is intermittent and his dreams are all about Bones. Jim doesn't remember what actually happens, except that he wakes up to his pillow case soaked by his tears. He cries himself back to an uneasy sleep and the cycle repeats itself until he wakes up around dinner and Christine is lying next to him.

She is still in uniform and has the antiseptic smell of Sick Bay clinging to her hair, which lays across the navy blue of his pillowcase like a fine spun gold.

They stare at each other for a while; Christine always calm and collected and Jim with tears in his eyes. The silence should be uncomfortable, but there is something unspoken that passes between them, an understanding of sorts.

"This is how I see it," Christine tells him. "The bright side is that you're not drunk and running loose on a starship."

Jim rolls his eyes. "What's the downside?" he asks, his voice raspy from disuse.

"Your breath smells like vomit and you're dehydrated."

If anyone - _anyone_ - else had told him that, Jim would have manhandled them out of his quarters with a very pointed _fuck you_ and _goodbye_.

Christine is not just anyone.

She softens the insult with a sweet smile and holds Jim's hand, squeezing it gently. "Does it hurt more because Leonard's not here?" she asks, though Jim is sure that she already knows the answer to that.

Jim nods, tightening his grip on her hand. "Bones was the first person to really give a shit about _me_. My mom wasn't...she was always distant. She wasn't affectionate, never went to any school plays or those stupid concerts they would force us to do for the holidays," he explains in a whisper. "When she was home, it was like I didn't exist, so I acted out, caused trouble. Then Bones came along. He had no preconceived notions of how I should handle myself - _especially_ on my birthday. I don't think he knew who I was at first and thought I just had some rotten luck, but eventually he figured it out. Not sure how, but he did."

He falls silent - half trying to gather his thoughts, half waiting for Christine to tell him to shut the hell up. She doesn't do anything, except move closer to him and tighten the grip on his hand.

"He would cater to my whims, but it was really babysitting. I think he wanted to make sure I didn't get myself arrested or hospitalized or worse. Bones would follow me around from bar to bar, almost like a shadow, and he kept a safe distance from whatever I was doing, only stepping in when he needed to," Jim continued, worrying his thumb against Christine's hand. He can feel the tears seeping down his cheeks, running under his chin or his nose. "Sometimes I would be fine, maybe a little moody. Most of the time, I was a mess even though I didn't want to admit it...but he was always there. I never imagined him _not ever_ being there."

It's the truth and somehow the truth makes the pain more unbearable.

Jim breaks down and allows Christine to pull him to her. Jim buries his face in the crook of her shoulder and shudders in the nurse's arms.

It's so similar to all the times Bones comforted him after his latest bender, even when it's not. Where Bones would whisper assurances in his ear, Christine is silent.

It's her touch that eases his pain: from the gentle pressure of her fingers massaging his scalp to the press of her cheek against his own.

"I'm sorry," he manages to choke out against the fabric of her uniform.

Christine pulls back slightly. "Why?"

"Because…" he starts to say. _You lost more than I did._

"Don't," Christine says firmly. "Don't you even think it, Jim Kirk! We both lost someone we loved and no matter what our relationship to that person was, it still hurts the same."

He reluctantly admits that she has a point and nods instead of speaking.

They lay prone on Jim's bed for a while, listening to the sound of their breathing and the hum of the ship as it travels through space.

"Shore leave is soon," Christine casually mentions as her hand rubs up and down Jim's back.

Jim sighs against her neck. "Don't remind me," he groans.

"I thought _you_, of all people, would be the first one off the ship," she quips.

He shrugs. "Ask me again tomorrow," he tells her, "when I'm in a better mood."

And she does over breakfast in the mess.

As Jim digs into his pancakes that are drowned in maple syrup while Christine eats a slightly more sensible breakfast consisting of an omelet, they decide that they will go hiking in one of Risa's vast mountain ranges.

Then they will go drinking with the rest of their friends because that's what shore leave is for after all.

* * *

The hike is a comedy of errors to say the least.

It's ridiculously hot and not even an hour into it, both Jim and Christine shed their shirts. He tries not to ogle her as she walks ahead of him wearing a pair of shorts and a sports bra.

It's not like she has a nice body (because she does - every single inch of fair skin caressed by curves and lithe muscles).

And it's not like he wants to pin her to the nearest tree and have his way with her.

Because that would be rude. _Incredibly_ rude.

"Are you okay back there?" she asks, turning her head over her shoulder.

Jim nods. "I'm pretty sure I'm melting," he replies as he adjusts the weight of his backpack against his body.

"Doesn't it get hot in Iowa?" She's stopped, waiting for him to catch up and is twisting her hair into a ponytail. How she makes it look so seductive is beyond him.

Not that he's complaining.

"Not like this," Jim answers as he nudges her with his shoulder, sun baked skin against skin. "Humidity is the devil."

Christine snorts and bumps him with her hip. "You're in luck," she tells him with a smile. "There's a lake up ahead."

"Thank god!" he whines with an exaggerated roll of his eyes.

When they do arrive at the lake, Jim promptly dumps his backpack onto the shoreline and gets his sneakers and socks off in record time before diving in. The cool water is a refreshing shock to his system as he swims back to the surface.

"You're like a yellow lab," Christine shouts from the shoreline, enacting more composure than Jim will ever possess as she carefully removes her footwear…

…and shorts, apparently.

Jim treads water watching in awe as Christine wades into the water, resembling a water nymph as her underwear clad hips move with the current. She takes her hair out of the ponytail that keeps it off her face, letting her sunlit blond hair fall over her shoulders.

She glances up with an impish smile before she dunks herself under the surface.

Jim bits his lip and silently curses himself for being _that guy_.

That guy who is only friends with the girl so he can sweep her off her feet.

He will not be _that guy_, despite his feelings for Christine. She deserves more than that, but goddammit, his feelings are hard to ignore.

And it's not just lust. It's something deeper, something more frightening and wonderful.

He doesn't just want a chaste kiss on his cheek or the playful shove reserved for when he's teasing her. Jim wants everything and he has no idea how to go about getting it.

"Did the sun fry your brain, hot shot?" Christine teases as she wipes water from her eyes, which seem to sparkle more under the Risa sun. The bridge of her nose is tinged pink, bringing out three little freckles that Jim has never noticed before.

Instead of answering, he closes the distance between them and presses his lips against hers, tasting fresh water and the sweetness of her lips.

Then common sense kicks in and Jim pulls back, flushing profusely and stuttering.

"Shit," he stammers. "Shit, Chapel…I'm sorry…I shouldn't have done that…"

Now it's Christine's turn (and rightfully so) to shock the shit of him. She pulls him back to her, kissing him fully on the lips.

It takes a moment for Jim to get over his surprise, but when he does, he kisses Christine back with gusto as his arms circle around her body and presses her to him.

(If there's one thing he does well, it's kissing…amongst _other_ things.)

It's a clash of tongues, teeth, misaligned noses, and muffled giggling. It's horribly clumsy, but achingly perfect.

When they part all Jim can say is, "Oh."

On the way back to the hotel, Jim has his arm snaked over Christine's shoulders and a goofy grin plastered on his face which he tries (and doesn't try) to hide whenever she looks up at him.

"You look like the cat who ate the canary," Christine teases as she clasps the hand draped over her shoulder and snakes her arm around his waist, her fingers brushing against his sun baked skin.

(Not that he'll admit to it. Not now at least.)

Jim shrugs. "You aren't looking too innocent yourself, Chapel," he retorts with a laugh.

Christine squeezes his fingers and Jim squeezes hers.

"Hey," he says as he stops walking, earning a curious look from her.

They are surrounded by tons of people on the boardwalk and to the many nameless tourist, they look like some silly little couple just back from exploring, not a Starfleet captain and his head nurse.

"I want to do this right," Jim tells her, licking his lips. God, he's so stupidly nervous that he wonders if he's gone off the deep end. "I want to take you to dinner. Before we meet up with everyone at the bar."

Christine arches her brow. "You mean…like a date?"

"Yeah," Jim agrees. "Like a date." He realizes by the coy look on her face where she's about to go with this and opens his mouth to stop her. "I won't hit on any waitresses this time."

Christine smirks. "Sure about that?"

"I'm sure about_ you_," he tells her as he leans in, tilting her face towards his own. At the first brush of her lips against his, Jim grins into the kiss.

He knows he's screwed, but he finds that he doesn't care.

* * *

Their _second_ first date is a success.

Jim doesn't hit on any waitresses, Christine stays for longer than five minutes, and they laugh through dinner.

They are late meeting up with their friends at some dive bar that Scotty found and find that the party has started without them. Uhura and Carol are dancing on top of the bar, shouting for Christine to join them as some god awful pop song blasts through the speakers.

She does join them and shakes what the good lord gave her.

Jim watches in fascination and awe as Christine's body (well, mostly her hips) move to the music with confidence and slowly seduces him without trying. He nearly chokes on the beer that Scotty has thrust into his hand when Christine catches his eye and winks at him.

Yeah, he's completed screwed and Jim is absolutely certain that he's going to marry her.

* * *

By some miracle they make it off Risa without having sex.

In the safe familiarity of Jim's bedroom, they slowly undress each other and take their time. It's intimate and meaningful and when it's all over, Jim knows that he loves Christine.

"This is going to be weird," he says her as they lay pressed together under his sheets, "but I love you."

Christine is quiet for a moment before she lifts her head off his chest and looks down at him with a delighted grin. "If you wanted to go again, you could have just said so," she jokes before she silences his rebuff with a kiss that leaves him breathless.

Much later while sitting on the couch in the main living area and wrapped in his sheets as they eat replicated ice cream, Christine returns the sentiment and seals it with a kiss.

* * *

They elope six months later during another shore leave whose martial laws are considered legal on Earth.

It starts with a proposal on the observation deck as he and Christine saw a supernova with a bowl of popcorn (because while they enjoy science, popcorn is a must because they are self-declared assholes). The ring, a circle cut diamond set on a plain platinum band, is resting on the bottom of the bowl and waiting for Christine to find it.

She does and looks at him like he's lost his damn mind.

Jim being Jim just grins at her and whispers as the supernova glows brighter against the black surround them, "Can't ask you now. We're getting to the good part."

He's nearly knocked to the ground by Christine launching herself into his arms, nodding her head in a silent answer. The popcorn spills all over the ground, but neither of them are too terribly concerned.

So they elope the second day of shore leave. The first day is spent finding a jeweler who can size a pair of wedding bands in under twelve hours and obtaining a marriage license.

With the notoriety of both of their surnames, they know that their little secret won't stay that way for long, but it doesn't seem to bother either of them.

They become husband and wife in a judge's chambers in under fifteen minutes. Jim wears his formal uniform and Christine wears a knee length dress of a light pink material that moves like a soft breeze when she walks.

It's not the wedding of the century: there's no fancy catering, high priced tuxedo or bridal dress, or partying until the early hours of morning.

But it's perfect and that's all that matters.

* * *

They are married for three and a half (blissful) years when their five year mission ends with a bang.

Literally.

As the _Enterprise_ crosses the neutral zone, Klingon raiders attack the ship and severely damage the hull. She puts up a valiant fight as other starships come to intercept the enemy, but in the end, the ship dies in an explosion of brilliant flame.

Jim doesn't see his ship's final moments.

He's lying on an operating table on the _USS Excelsior_'s Sick Bay as the staff tries to repair his left leg whose bones are completely shattered.

It was either pushing Chekov out of the way and risking his life for his crewmen or allowing the piece of the catwalk above Engineering crush the kid to death.

The stupid thing is that Jim almost made it out of the way, _if_ he hadn't slipped.

There was a brief explosion of fiery pain, the sound of him screaming (really screaming), then darkness.

Then the sound of his voice, whispering in his ear, "Kid, what are we going to do with you?"

Jim opens his eyes to find himself in Bones' single back at the Academy. He's confused at first, since he's not wearing his cadet reds, but his command gold and the dorm looks exactly how he remembers it.

Clean, precise, and in essence Bones.

"Can't you keep out of trouble for five minutes?" the doctor drawls as he suddenly appears in front of Jim with a lazy grin on his face. He looks the way Jim remembers him and all he can think as he gawks at the doctor is…

"Am I dead?"

"No," Bones assures him, "but I am. Ain't that a bitch?"

Jim furrows his brow as he surveys his surroundings before turning back to his friend. "Are you _sure_ I'm not dead?"

"What makes you think that?"

Jim doesn't actually know, but he finds it strange that Bones is here with him, so he tells him so.

"I'm here to keep you company," Bones answers, as if this is a logical explanation. He sits down across from Jim and eyes the wedding band on his left hand. "I never thought I'd see the day, kid."

Jim glances down and wants to smile, but panic fills his gut instead. "Are you angry?"

"Nah," Bones replies with a dismissive shake of his head. "So long as you make her happy."

Jim nods as he rotates his wedding band against his finger. "I hope I do…"

"You _do_," Bones tells him with a smile. "I know you and I know how you get when someone has your undivided attention."

"She was easy to fall in love with," Jim whispers, his voice cracking at his confession. "I think I loved her from the time I saw her in that bar when we were still in the Academy."

Bones makes a noise of agreement.

"She still misses you, you know," Jim says. "We both miss you."

Bones is abnormally quiet and for a moment, Jim thinks he's disappeared.

"I miss you all of the time, Bones," Jim confesses as tears well up. "Sometimes I don't know what to do without you."

Bones leaves his spot and crosses the room to sit next to Jim, placing a hand on his knee. "I miss you, too, kid."

"Why did you have to die?" he asks, like a child.

"Here I thought you were going to ask me why I never told you about Christine," Bones jokes as he pulls Jim into a hug.

Jim welcomes the familiar weight against his body and rests his chin on Bones' shoulder. "She loved you too," he murmurs.

"I know she did."

"She still loves you," Jim adds in a softer tone as he pulls away.

Bones nods. "Just do me a favor," he says, smiling as Jim nods in agreement. "You're going to wake up and you're going to take it easy. You will listen to your doctors and _your wife_ because they know more than you do, you hard headed son of a bitch. You're going to remember that you _will_ get better, even if it takes time, and that when you get frustrated, you will let Christine take care of you since I'm not there anymore."

"Bones-" Jim starts to say.

The doctor shakes his head. "And you're going to name her Joanna. I've always liked that name."

"Name who Joanna?" Jim replies, taken aback.

Bones shakes his head. "You'll see, kid."

And he's thrust back into consciousness so abruptly that it makes Jim's head spin.

Or maybe it's the drugs.

"Hot shot?" he hears Christine say as her face appears above his, beautiful and backlit by sunlight.

Real sunlight.

Jim blinks owlishly, his lids momentarily closing. "Baby," he croaks as his eyes drift around the room, "I think I'm high."

He watches as Christine's face breaks into a huge smile, followed by hysterical laughter. She cups his cheeks in her hands, pressing her lips against his forehead. "Jim," she whispers into his skin, the words filled with relief and love. "Yes, hot shot, you're high."

"It's against regulation," he slurs in all seriousness. "I'm a Starfleet captain. I can't be high."

She's laughing again and kissing his cheeks, then his lips. "They make exceptions when the need arises," she replies. "Go back to sleep. I'll be here when you wake up."

Jim listens and closes his eyes without protest.

The next time he wakes up, his head is less clouded. Christine is there, holding his hand and massaging his scalp the way he likes it as she explains the severity of his injuries.

"The doctors will need to operate on your leg again," she tells him as she spoon feeds him ice chips.

He swallows. "How many times?"

"They don't know yet," Christine confesses. She brushes his hair off his forehead and gives him a sympathetic smile. "You're lucky you didn't lose it, to be honest."

Jim shrugs. "James T. Kirk, defying the odds since twenty-two thirty-three," he quips with a boyish grin.

"Don't I know it," Christine whispers before giving him a peck on his chapped lips. "There's something else."

Jim frowns. "What else?"

"During my intake on the _Excelsior_," she starts before seeing the horrified look on Jim's face. "Jim, I'm fine. It was just protocol, okay?"

Jim isn't convinced. "Are you…you didn't…"

"James," she says sternly, raising a brow. "I'm fine, I promise. They did an ultrasound because I had some cramping."

"CRAMPING?!" he shouts. "Chris, you said you were _fine_!"

Christine rolls her eyes. "I _am_ fine, you idiot! I'm pregnant."

He's about to argue that cramping does not mean that she's fine when her last comment resonates. It's one of the few moments in Jim's life that he's dumbstruck. "You're…we're…"

"…having a baby," Christine finishes.

Jim sinks into the pillows in awe. "A baby," he echoes.

"Yeah, hot shot," Christine says. "A baby."

Jim brings his palm to his forehead. "How much pain medication am I on?" he asks.

"Why?"

"I want to make sure that we are actually having this conversation and that I'm not high out of mind," Jim replies.

Then he laughs like a mad man.

And Christine tells the nurses to cut back on the morphine.

* * *

He has three additional surgeries on his leg and by the time he's in a walking cast, Jim and Christine learn that they are having a baby girl.

When the nurse tells them, it's almost better than the first time they hear their baby's heartbeat.

"A girl," Jim muses later that night as they lay in bed, his leg propped up on a pillow. He's rubbing Christine's expanding belly, hoping to feel the baby kick.

Apparently, their daughter has her father's stubborn streak.

Christine reaches down and takes his hand into hers. "Yeah," she sighs with a smile. "I wonder if she'll have your eyes."

"I bet she'll have your nose," Jim chimes in. "And your lips."

Christine makes a face. "My lips? Why not your lips?"

He presses his lips against hers and kisses her. "Because I like your lips better," Jim says as he pulls back, much to Christine's amusement.

"Well, I guess that settles it," Christine quips as she leans against Jim's side.

They are silent for a while, content and relaxed.

"What do you think of the name Joanna?" Jim asks as he runs his fingers through his wife's hair.

He can see Christine mulling it over before she shrugs. "Joanna Kirk," she says aloud before giving him a satisfied shrug. "I like it. We'll need to think of a middle name."

"I like your middle name," Jim replies. "Joanna Elizabeth."

Christine snorts. "No…not Joanna Elizabeth. Joanna Lynn?"

"I'm from Iowa, not West Virginia."

Christine laughs. "Joanna Marie?"

"Joanna Marie Kirk," Jim states before kissing the top of Christine's head. "I like it. What about you?"

Christine pats the swell of her belly with a smile worthy of the Madonna. "Joanna Marie Kirk," she repeats. She jumps as the baby kicks, surprising both her and Jim. "I think she agrees."

* * *

Joanna is four years old and loves princesses and space ships. She has her daddy's blue eyes and mouth and her mother's nose and chin.

And apparently her father's impatience because she arrives two weeks ahead of her due date with a healthy set of lungs and peach fuzz on her perfect little head.

Strangely enough, Joanna shares a birthday with a man she will never meet, but will hear about for the rest of her life.

Fitting, seeing how he brought her parents together.

Jim is watching his daughter from the doorway of her bedroom as she plays amongst her toys, chattering away in that sweet little voice. He's in awe of the tiny creature that is a perfect mix of him and his wife and cannot even imagine his life before he became domesticated.

The floor creaks behind and when he looks over his shoulder, Jim sees Christine carrying two steaming mugs of coffee. He flashes her a smile and whispers, "She's playing."

"What's she playing?" Christine asks as she hands Jim one of the mugs.

Jim pulls her to him and kisses her forehead. "Princesses and starships," he chuckles into her head.

"Well," Christine giggles, impressed, "you can't beat that!"

They watch Joanna for a while longer before her little face pops up and sees them. "Mommy...Daddy," she says, "I'm hungry."

"You're hungry?" Jim hears Christine reply.

Joanna nods and skips over to them, hugging herself to his legs and pressing her face into the fabric of his pajama bottoms. "Can Daddy make pancakes?" the little girl asks as she looks up at her parents with those big blue Kirk eyes.

Jim shrugs as he hands his mug to Christine so he can scoop his daughter into his arms. "I could make pancakes," Jim tells Joanna as he settles her on his hip. "What does mommy think about chocolate chip pancakes?"

He sees Joanna and Christine exchange a delighted look before the little girl lets out a squeal.

"But no syrup, Daddy," Joanna order as they walk downstairs, hanging onto Jim like a monkey. "Bones says that too much sugar is bad for you."

Christine nearly chokes on her coffee and Jim stops dead in his tracks, gripping the rail with his hand.

"Who told you that, Bug?" Jim asks, his voice trembling.

Joanna shoots her father a skeptical look. "Bones," she replies with a tiny frown. "He's a doctor."

"And who is Bones, honey?" Christine pipes in, casting a disbelieving (or believing) glance at Jim.

Joanna turns to her mother with a grin. "My friend!" she answers animatedly. "He's invisible, though. I hope you and Daddy don't mind."

He and Christine stare at each other, both of them wondering if their kid is psychic or someone told her about Uncle Leonard's nickname.

"Daddy," Joanna says softly as she swings her foot against his stomach.

Jim swallows. "Yeah Bug?"

"I left my sock in my room," she declares, sounding mildly guilty.

There is a quick shuffle of coffee mugs and a tiny body into the arms of her mother and Jim is running back upstairs to his daughter's room, his heart pounding and his pulse racing.

The room is just as they left it, a whirlwind of toys, pastel colors, holophotos, and an unmade "big girl" bed, where Jim sits down.

His head is spinning at the innocent words his daughter said.

Truth be told, he had chalked up his conversation with Bones as a drug-induced hallucination and nothing more.

When he told Christine about it, she had agreed, though Jim knew deep down that it gave her a sense of peace to know that Bones - wherever he was - was okay.

As quickly as he panic rose, Jim remembers the rest of Bones' words in that restaurant in the Mission.

_Everyone dies, Jim,_ the doctor had told him. _But it doesn't mean they're gone._

Jim lets out a laugh and leans back on the mattress. "Bones," he whispers as he stares at the art easel that holds one of Joanna's latest creations, "you goddamn sap."

He doesn't expect an answer because that would make this all the stranger.

"Daddy!" he hears Joanna call from the kitchen. "My sock!"

Jim spots said sock next to a discarded starship and scoops it off the floor with a chuckle and a shake of his head. He goes to the doorway and says, "Be there in a second."

He turns back, searching for someone he can no longer see and smiles. "She's on your watch, Bones," he says to the empty room. "Take care of her."

Jim will tell Christine later, but for now he has a foot missing a sock and a batch of pancakes to make.

**Fin.**


End file.
